


Cello

by applecameron



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 17:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6667594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applecameron/pseuds/applecameron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur plays the cello.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cello

The dream was a simple room with wood floors and mirrors everywhere, like a dance studio. In fact, upon inspection, it was a dance studio, barre intact. 

Arthur sat in the middle of it, with a beatific smile on his face. The wood of the cello under his hands was warm, like the light in the room, and music filled everything: the wood, the air, Eames' bones and sinew and flesh. 

Eames took off his shoes and padded quietly over to the only other furnishing, a chaise, and sat down. 

He didn't know how long he watched. He didn't know how long Arthur played, eyes open but focused on his art, his craft, but Eames could feel something inside himself, inside the room, unfurling into a joy he hadn't felt since he was a child. Into something transcendent. It tapered as all joys must, transient by nature, into a deep sense of contentment that made the walls glow rosy, as if a sun was setting over the Aegean, as the music swelled and yearned and then came back to that fixed point, changed and changeless, seated in the center of the room. 

He sat quietly while Arthur breathed, eyes closed now, embracing his instrument, remembering the turners he'd witnessed in a village in Turkey, or Kurdistan, maybe, that same religious ecstasy on their faces Arthur mirrored now. 

"Thank you," he breathed, not wanting to speak, really, not wanting to break the spell. 

Otherworldliness still upon him, Arthur just nodded in acknowledgement. 

They sat for several more moments, until Arthur rose, planted the cello carefully, and walked over to the chaise, hand out, for Eames to stand up. 

They stood and stared at each other, until Eames said, "God." 

What he meant was, _I had no idea that was in you, I am moved to tears to be present at this offering, to be permitted inside, to glimpse this truth you've carried in you, all along_. 

"Yes." said Arthur in return, as if he knew the things Eames wasn't saying by invoking the name of deity. He put Eames' hand on his hip, holding it still with his own, and stepped close to kiss him, sweetly. Then withdrew, smiling. "I knew you would understand."


End file.
